


Fragile Things [DISCONTINUED]

by narwalish



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Human Experimentation, M/M, Medical Torture, Nightmares, possible future smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narwalish/pseuds/narwalish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My heart is a Fragile thing, not to be toyed with, not to be taken lightly. So why must your memory torture me? Why must I be left in this empty world without you? I need you here to keep me strong, I need you here to guide me. So many people here hope that their home is safe and sound, out of harm, but how can I? How can I hope that all that I love is okay when you are not here, Marco?"<br/>Future AU. The year is 2850, and Jean has been left to mourn the loss of his fallen comrade, Marco. He is told that they have cremated Marco, and Jean is convinced that he saw his friend's body burn. But Marco's body has been taken by the scientists of the Survey Corps, who strive to revive him, and use him as an experiment to push the boundaries of technology and human life as we know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home is Gone

_Crisp green grass surrounds my body as I lie on the ground, the blades reaching far above my head, encircling a view of a clear blue sky as I stare upwards. With every tiny movement I make, I feel the plant life aro_ _und me tickle at my ears and cheeks. I can feel the heat of the summer sun beating down on me. It is hot enough that I acknowledge it, but the cool breeze dismisses my thoughts of going inside. I can smell the freshness of the air, that humid, fragrant smell of the daisies and the dirt. I can hear the buzzing of the flies, of the bees, the gentle flutter of each butterfly. I can hear the birds singing against the wind's slow hum on the grass._

_There is only a quiet rustle as I move my hand up to entwine my long fingers in my choppy haircut. If I remain still enough, I can hear a door opening and closing in the distance. You can tell from the thump and clatter that it is an old door, wooden and heavy. The old, rusty handle has nearly detached itself from the nails plunged clumsily into the door, a half-assed job._

_I know the sound of the door. I know the feel of this place. This is home. This was home. The endless fields behind a quiet cottage. If I listen closely enough, I can almost hear the bustling of the village, the markets of happy people only a few miles away. In fact, I know that if I stand up, I will be able to see the cottage-filled town in the distance._

_I hear my name being called, summoning me for dinner. I expect to hear my mother, b_ _ut it never is. It is a man's voice, cheerful and bright, and I can hear the smile on his face as he says my name. I sit up, short blades of grass and dry dirt stick to my hair as I turn to look at him._

_An ethereal glow is emitted from his body. His gentle smile, his warm brown eyes, his scruffy chocolate locks. As he speaks to me, his dark freckles move with every syllable. I can see the words he is saying to me, but for some reason I can no longer hear him._

_I can no longer hear the slow buzz of the insects, the crunch of the ground beneath my feet, or the tinkling birdsong. I cannot feel the warmth of the sun against my pale skin. I turn to look at the world around me, or more appropriately, what is left of it._

_The long grass has been disintegrated, burned to the ground, along with every tree in near sight. The animals have fled, the ground is bare. I turn to the direction of the village, the cheerful village with the bakers and the butchers, the seamstresses and the florists, only to see what I already expect. The screams and cries of the women and children as they flee their houses deafen me, the slow thud of the giants' footsteps make me shudder. I look at my house, that tiny, innocent cottage. I watch as my mother, a beautiful and serene young woman, pushes her child out of the house. I cannot hear her cries and her pleas, but I know what she has told this small boy. She has given him lots of food and water, enough for a week or so, and told him, amidst her sobs, to run. To flee to the inner walls. She says she will meet him there, and that she will find another way for herself to get there. She claims she will only slow him down, and that he is better off hiding without her. She tells him that once they meet again, he can join the Military Police, and make her proud. She kisses his forehead, and watches him grin and nod, ever the enthusiast, saying that he'll see her soon. He hugs her legs, and runs away. I know the speech off by heart, and I remember waving back at her. I continue my journey over the hill, not looking back._

_I'm glad I never did._

_I can feel tears roll down my cheeks at the memory, and shudder. I know what is next._

_I turn to him, clenching my fists and feeling the bitten-down nails slide unevenly against my rough palms. He smiles at me, but as his lips tilt upwards, I see the skin fall away. His right eye begins to dull, his left one having rotted away. I see his skull, his broken ribs. I see the blood spill from his body, and I try to look away. But I can't. Because I did this to him. He tried to save me, but he only made it worse somehow._

_There is no sound as_ _his body slowly falls to the floor, his corpse falling against a filthy wall. I do not realise the change in setting, and I always wish against it. I look around, feeling the cloth absorbing my shallow breaths as I look at my fallen comrade. I sense the weight on my body get heavier as I feel the soft cloth of my uniform rub against my skin. My gloved hands are outstretched in front of me, clawing at the air. My entire body trembles as I say his name, and I can hear his voice echo around me, juxtaposed only by the footsteps against cold slabs of concrete._

_"You're not strong... But your orders were right. That's why I could run... That's why I am alive."_


	2. Why do we try to please the lost?

I jolt awake, the cold sweat beading my forehead as I sit up in my bunk. I shudder at the memories plaguing my mind, torturing me. I grip my face in my hands with as much force as I would if I were planning to tear it off, and I attempt to cease the tears threatening to overflow from my eyes. I did this to him, I killed him. I didn't deserve to be alive, he was the better person. I had so many things I needed to say to him, to thank him for, to ask him.

"Jean?" I jump at the whisper of my name, looking around in the dark for the source of the noise. The only light in the room is from the cyan-blue glow of the clock above the door. I wince when I read the numbers. 03:30. I look around again and notice a figure sitting up in his top bunk, his dark hair almost brushing the ceiling as he looks over at me. Bertholdt. Biting my lip, and attempting to stop my voice from cracking as I speak to him, I reply with a certain sense of unease.

"Good Morning..." My voice is a hoarse whisper, and I hear a gentle sigh. "You had the nightmare again, didn't you? About Marco." I feel my stomach lurch at the sound of his name, and I chew my now bloodied lip, searching for a reply. He gets there first. "It's been two months, Jean. you've been hardly sleeping and you've been getting these nightmares constantly. You keep getting hallucinations, you're fainting randomly, you need to accept it, Jean. He's not coming back."

I curl my fists, half way between denial and fury. Bertholdt doesn't deserve to say the name. He has no right to tell me what to do, but I know he is right. I know that Marco, my fallen comrade, is gone. There is no argument in the matter, there is no way to turn back time. I can only attempt to sleep, attempt to filter through my broken thoughts and hope that one day I will be able to look at him in my ethereal composition without him fading away.

My train of thought is interrupted as Bertholdt mutters something to me that sounds like a quiet "Get some sleep, Jean". I look over to him and hear the thin covers rustle as he tucks himself back into bed, his body curling up into a ball. I stop and listen to my team mates' slow breaths, the gentle snores. I stop and wonder how many people my companions have lost in their lives, like Eren's mother, and Connie's, and Historia's. Armin's parents and his grandfather. Mikasa's parents. Hannah's boyfriend.

We've all lost someone. We've made it this far. But somehow I struggle to believe how many of us haven't made it. Even the Squad Leaders have lost people they care about. So why must we all carry on? Why do we still try to please those who aren't here any more? I often think of these things, sitting awake in the cold metal bunk bed. Many assume it is because we feel the need to believe they are "still here", but that is not the case at all.

I feel we strive to achieve the challenges that have been left for us, such as my mother wanting me to join the Military Police and Eren avenging the wrongs done to his mother. We don't necessarily believe they are watching over us, we believe that there is a part of them which they have left  _within_  us, wanting us to become what we dream to be.

And when I imagine Marco, his lifeless body wrapped up in cloth, being thrown into the Mission Control incinerator, I knew I would avenge him. I knew I would become part of the Survey Corps, no matter how much I disliked the idea, because I want to make sure my comrades never fall again. I want to be strong. I want to be what Marco wanted me to be. A leader.

I lie back down in bed, giving an involuntary shiver as I wrap myself up in the blankets I have let go cold, and as I blink, I wince at the soreness of my eyelids. I have lost sleep, I have lost weight, I have almost lost all hope. But I have not lost my sanity yet, and I have not lost my will to live.

I stare out the window, the light of the training institution polluting my view of the stars. I hear the gentle whirring of the science facility around the corner, and wonder what they are thinking. How are they helping us, what are they researching? Has their capture of the titans down anything to help? I sigh, letting my eyes close, and think about how many people are still alive tonight. I'm happy for them.


	3. Caged Bird

 

  
_Where am I?_

I can feel cold metal beneath me, and I shudder. I can feel leather straps, tight against my skin, making the harness for the 3DMG seem comfortable. I am yet to open my eyes, but there is a bright, luminescent light shining down on my face.

I am numb. I cannot feel the top half of my body, and I struggle to remember why. _Am I in hospital? The last thing I remember is-_ I choke. Trost. Annie. The titan. I cannot breathe. _What's happened to me? Am I badly hurt? Am I paralysed?_ I pluck up courage to open my eyes and manage to hold back a scream. I see no warm white ceiling or any sign of a hospital room. I don't see the cool blue of the Operation room. I see steel, I see sickening green, and I know where I am.

The Laboratories. We used to make up horror stories about this place, we heard rumours. The Survey Corps have laboratories for special experimentation in their headquarters, underground they used to say. I whimper, trying to remember what happened to me. _I know the event but... Why is my vision so bad?_ I have a headache, pounding against my skull.

"Ahh! You're finally awake!" I jolt towards the voice, bright and feminine, crying out in pain as I feel something sharp tug on my neck.

"Ah, don't go making any harsh movements like that, Mr Bodt. That could be a tad dangerous."

Whimpering, I still try to source her. _Who is this woman?_

"We thought you were a goner after Mr Kirschtstein brought you back, you were in an awful condition! 2 months you were out!" she chuckles, like my pain is an amusement, "Poor Mr Kirschtstein has even gone into a depressed state! Quite extraordinary, really."

I try to open my mouth to reply, to try to get some answers, but my jaw is locked. _Why isn't my mouth working? I could have sworn-_

"Now, Now, Mr Bodt. I know you would like some answers, but once again, try not to be too hasty with your movements, it could damage you."

_Damage?!_

"But, of course, that's why you're here..." I can hear footsteps, her voice moving towards me, and a metallic whirr. The surface I am lying on jolts, and I feel my entire body slanting forwards.

"There we go, it should be easier to talk to you, now." The voice is behind me, close. Footsteps move around and I jump at the sight of another person. Brunette. Tall. Goggles. Survey Corps jacket.

_Oh, shit._

"I'm Zoe Hange, your doctor." I try to move, but I'm terrified. My senses are on overload.

_I can't let her touch me. I can't let her near me. She is a nightmare but- why am I here? Why is there a scientist looking over my body, what's wrong with me?!_

"I'm going to be the main one patching you up, testing you, experimenting~"  
I make what I would call a questioning and slightly scared noise, but she translates it as another reason to laugh brightly. "Ahh, you're probably wondering why you're here, right? Well, it seems that, while in Trost, a titan you were attacking decided to have a snack. The titan was killed, but it seems that the person who killed it didn't notice you, meaning you were left in the streets for two days until Mr Kirschtstein found you while on patrol. Rather fortunate he did, really. Another few hours and we wouldn't have been able to get your heartbeat going again. Everyone except our top people thinks you're dead. We even had to stage your cremation."

_Jean thinks I'm dead? How bad a shape am I in if-_

"I assume you'd like to know what you look like, but I have to warm you, it's gruesome. we had to numb the whole upper half of your body so you wouldn't damage yourself too much." She walks over to the side of the room, and I can't take my eyes off of her. How could one woman, so seemingly cheerful, be so terrifying at the same time?

"Here it is!" She grabs a large, full length mirror from the wall, pulling it over to the space in front of me, reflective side facing away. I find myself trembling. _What do I-_

She flips the mirror, and I gag.

 _Please, god. Let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up now._  
But I don't. I'm still here, staring at a body that should be dead.

"Yep, that titan did a number on you. Cracked skull, missing eye- miraculous there's no brain damage, really- part of jaw missing- along with a section of the skin covering it, obviously- right side of torso torn off- along side right arm- fractured ribs on left side of body- none missing- some vital muscle tissue torn from right leg, no bone damage to legs apart from a left broken ankle. No damage to any internal organs at all, nor to the tongue, sexual organs, or..." She looks up, examining what's left of me, "to my knowledge, the left eye."

I want to be sick, but the sight of my fragile body stops me from wanting to move an inch.

"Unfortunately we haven't been able to alter anything to do with your anatomy just yet, as we weren't sure it was totally legal or ethical to do anything without your consent. Hopefully now that you're awake, we'll be able to start work almost immediately."

I shudder. _Dear Jesus, help me. I can't be stuck here. Don't let me be stuck here..._

She moves, and I mentally jolt at her action. She moves slowly towards a door I didn't before notice, and moves her hand over the handprint monitor. The door slides open, the metallic material only making a gentle whoosh as the machinery slides against each other. As if we had not just had the previous conversation, the _doctor_ \- the word makes phlegm form in my throat at my mental disgust- turns to look at me and smiles. "I'll be right back with my friends, okay~?"  
And she disappears, leaving me to my thoughts.

 _What did I ever do to deserve this, tell me once. I tried to be a good person for God, for Jinae, for my friends, for... Jean. Shit, Jean... He thinks I'm dead, he thinks they cremated me... He thinks he's alone._  Hange said he'd gone into a depressed state... Like after he found out his mother died...  
I'm alive but... I don't feel it. I feel like a dead man, like a caged bird...

_I'm going to die in these walls, I just know it._

Hange's re-arrival jogs me from my thoughts as I examine the two men with her. One looks like the stereotypical hero; tall, muscular, handsome, the type that women would have posters of on their bedroom wall. The other man, however, looks quite the opposite; short although mildly lean, seems more suited for the Proms than the Elite.

"Marco, I'd like you to meet Lance Corporal Levi and Commander Erwin." She gestures to each man as she says their names. "They are two of the few superiors of your's who know of your situation."  
 _Lance Corporal Levi... Humanity's Strongest Soldier... But..._  
"Erwin, Levi, This is the boy. My new project~" _Project?!_

Levi, glancing at me with slight disdain, mumbles in a drawl, which while is so low and quiet, I am able to catch every word. "Are you sure he'll be of use, Hange? He's pretty fucking banged up, he won't be able to work for weeks. Is he really worth the taxes?"  
Erwin speaks next, a strong and vibrant tone of voice, "Now, Levi, you've heard the plan, you understand the possible outcome. This boy could be of great use to us. Maybe it will take some time, but he does have the best doctor we have working on him." He grinned dazzlingly at Hange, and I mentally scoff. _She's the best doctor they have?_ I shudder to think who the worst one is...

Hange chuckles at their exchange. "Well, of course it will take a great deal of time, experimenting and mapping and such, but it is made somewhat simpler by the full working capabilities of all organs, except the right eye, obviously."

I drown out their conversation, focussing on something less sickening. _Is this what I have become? A piece of meat, livestock, a test subject? They say it will help, but will it? Will it make me whole again?_ These thoughts continue to plague my mind, and I hardly notice the single tear run down my left cheek.  
Hange looks at me, grinning, and walks over to me a gentle stroll as she moves a hand up to wipe away the salty droplet. She chuckles, a light yet somewhat harrowing sound.

"Well, Gentleman, if I'm not mistaken, I believe it's time to begin."


End file.
